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My eyes sting and my shoulder is wet

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My eyes sting and my shoulder is wet.

The door is about to break in.

I swallow. Duke squeezes me, gives me the strength I need to stand up.

"Should've done a few lines instead," he murmurs, steps ahead to open the door.

I swallow.

He opens.

His best friend throws his girlfriend inside. I force myself to look at her; her face that additionally to the red in her eyes would've been completed with the streaming black mascara she would've put on had she not known the course of today.

The act of my fucking life if I've ever had to play it.

Inhale a little deeper, risk puking out every single organ in my body.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news..."

His jaw's gotten sharper since last night, since half an hour ago. "But as it turns out, your girlfriend is either a pathological cunt, or she suffers from a severe case of schizophrenia."

She's taken whatever we should've taken.

I'm so sorry.

The anguish in her eyes grabs my throat. I fight it. I have a great motivation to fight it.

I need to fight it.

I stay silent. "Either way, you'd be better off looking for a new one."

Duke stays silent.

"If you have one honest bone in your body you won't deny it," she cries.

That's his girl.

I'm sorry I cost you such a treasure.

"What did you tell him?"

I'm sorry I froze the pain and warmth of your voice, I'm sorry I killed you again.

"What do you think I told him?"

Duke walks away. He developed a habit of smoking. He got an ashtray. Cigarettes for each room of the house and each location he steps foot in. A metal case on the counter. The one he clicks open and pulls one out of, one of his last. Lights it. Drags.

"Whatever you said I hope it wasn't too graphic."

"What the fuck?"

That's my cue.

I step back, force my eyes into hers.

"I'm sorry," I tell her, holding back the sincerity I wish I could give to her. "I really am."

She bites her heart.

Duke walks back.

The toxicity follows him.

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